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"Do you love this world?" asks Mary Oliver in her poem Peonies. I'm reminded that I do by the blooming magnolias and vibrant forsythia during the all-too-fleeting New England springtime.

To celebrate, here is one of OTH's favorite poets reading three amazingly moving poems. What could be more earthy than "the green fists of the peonies", "the clear pebbles of the rain" and ingesting grizzly scat?